Do you know what it feels like to be at the top? I know. I've always had a competitive spirit; ever since I was a kid, every game was a challenge, and my only goal was to win. Over time, that obsession led me to dominate international championships, strategy tournaments, seemingly impossible online worlds, and global rankings where my name remained at the top.
Believe it or not, being "Top 1" isn't an empty title. It means reacting before anyone else, adapting to the unexpected, and keeping a cool head when everything falls apart. That was my life, and I enjoyed it. If I had to give advice to someone looking to go far, it would be this: learn to turn every defeat into a lesson and never play like a carbon copy of someone else. Find your own path.
Until Exvyr came along. The most ambitious and brutal MMORPG I'd ever seen. A vast, detailed world, featuring classic races like humans and elves, but also the so-called anthropomorphs: non-human species ranging from goblins and kobolds to slimes, orcs, and humanoid beasts. It wasn't meant to entertain, but to keep you on the edge of your seat at every turn.
The first thing that caught my attention was the class system. Exvyr didn't offer textbook warriors or cookie-cutter mages; each class involved a real commitment, power in exchange for clear limitations. And among them all, one caught my attention: the Vampire.
It wasn't popular. Almost no one chose it because it started out fragile, with slow speed and miserable resources. Most dropped out in the tutorial. But for me, it was an invitation. The Vampire wasn't a simple night fighter: it was a class designed to adapt. It had explosive attack tools thanks to its blood arts, natural resilience with its regeneration ability, and enviable mobility through stealth and transformation techniques. It could also feed off its enemies, harness their strengths, and compensate for any shortcomings with constant evolution.
In the end, it was the only class that could do it all: offense, defense, environmental control, and unlimited growth. In the right hands, the Vampire wasn't just viable; it was the trump card to outclass any other race or strategy in the game.
It was the perfect challenge for someone who had already conquered everything else. I didn't think twice: I paid the subscription and dove in.
The reality check was immediate. What was supposed to be a simple tutorial ended up becoming a torture. My attacks barely scratched the enemies' health bars, each movement was clumsier than that of an untrained peasant, and the Vampire's supposed regeneration worked so slowly that a simple slime at the beginning killed me over and over again, as if the game were mocking me.
Convinced it was all down to lack of practice, I reached out to my old pro team, the same ones with whom we'd pulverized raids that took the rest of the world months to beat. Still, nothing changed. The first dungeon destroyed us in a matter of minutes, as if we were suddenly beginners with no idea what we were doing. That's when I realized this game didn't recognize my past achievements. The world champion, the undefeated player, reduced to the lowest level.
What a frustration. I spent endless hours on that damn tutorial, absurd to the point of exhaustion. It was so useless that even buying all the exclusive items in the shop couldn't make me progress. How could it be so ridiculous? Something wasn't right. I'd accumulated enough experience points to level up, but my status window refused to cooperate.
And there it was, the glorious panel that should show me my stats, but it's empty.
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PLAYER STATUS
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Name: ????
Level: 1
Race: Vampire
Class: ----
HP: ----
MP: ----
Force: ----
Agility: ----
Intelligence: ----
Skills: ----
Not a single value. As if my existence had no weight in that world. All I saw was a blank shell, a figure who, in theory, shouldn't even be able to move.
Fed up with that experience, I decided to delete it. There was no reason to continue wasting time on something so poorly designed. Before confirming the deletion, I let out a wry laugh. The supposedly "challenging world" was nothing more than a joke; anyone with a little coordination could overcome it effortlessly.
I was never interested in anime or light novels, although I remembered a former teammate from the pro team. He was a fan of those stories where a player ended up transported to another reality upon dying in the game. According to him, that's where the magic lay: the illusion of experiencing the fantasy firsthand.
To me, it was absurd. Death was always final, with no escape route or second chances. That was an unshakeable fact. That's why, when I hit the uninstall button, I didn't imagine anything could go wrong. After all, what danger could a simple program hide?
And nothing happened. I let out a short, almost mocking laugh. How odd. With so much free time, I ended up turning on the TV and searching for some anime to distract myself. Lately, I'd been seeing too many edited clips on social media: protagonists waking up in another world, ordinary office workers reincarnated as absurd creatures. One of the most popular showed someone transformed into a slimy, amorphous mass.
Honestly, I didn't see the point. If I had my choice, I'd never opt for something so convenient. The challenge is starting from the bottom, with a fragile existence, and still working my way up to the top. Evolving through shortcuts seemed boring to me. The interesting thing is in the difficulties, in overcoming what seems impossible.
I was up all night. My phone displayed the date: October 27, 2025, 3:34:52 a.m. I'd finished watching the entire first season, and all I felt was profound boredom. The show was sustained solely by the system it presented, nothing else. And the more I thought about it, the more absurd this whole concept of "reincarnating" in another world seemed. It may sound appealing to someone looking for escape, but it's ultimately an empty consolation.
I don't have much to lose in this world. Loneliness was always present, even when I seemed to have it all. Fame and money never brought true satisfaction. By the time I was 25, I'd already generated millions in assets, built companies in different countries, invested in video games, and participated in huge apps... and yet, none of it fulfilled me. I could quit work tomorrow and still live comfortably, but the discomfort remained within me.
That night, I understood more clearly what I had always suspected: money gives you options, but not purpose. Having it all doesn't mean feeling like your life has meaning. And in that silence, as my cell phone screen lit up the empty room, I harshly accepted it: I wasn't happy. Maybe all I needed wasn't more power, or more accomplishments, but something that would force me to feel truly alive.
And so, suddenly, my wish seemed to be granted. I heard a voice in my head speaking to me with cruel calm, thanking me for accepting this reality and reciting things that at the time sounded like a joke. I didn't think anything of it; I assumed it was the television still on or some strange dream caused by insomnia.
I woke up in a place I didn't recognize: not my room, not my bed. The light was strange, the air smelled of dampness and something else indefinable. When I sat up, I saw my body and was immediately struck by vertigo. It wasn't mine as I knew it: it was a form somewhere between human and monstrous, skin on the verge of sagging, flesh in poor condition that tugged with every movement. I looked at my hands, and they were the hands of a being that should have been dead.
—What the hell did I wish for?
Trapped in that confusion, the only clear possibility was one: either I'd been reincarnated or I'd been transported to another world. I didn't believe the idea; it sounded like the nonsense spouted by Kaito, the die-hard otaku on my old team. Still, I had no choice but to move: curiosity overpowered disbelief. I didn't know what I expected to find, but passivity bored me, so I decided to explore and see, with my own eyes, what lay behind all that madness.
After so much walking, I finally realized I was going in circles. Everything had a strange, almost artificial feel, as if it were a digital world. The feeling of being in a game was inevitable, although I tried to downplay it.
I continued aimlessly until I ran into a girl. Judging by her clothing, it was clear she was an adventurer, just like the ones you see in those isekai anime. As soon as I caught her eye, she drew her weapon, and in the blink of an eye, my body was split in two. There was no blood, just me dissolving into luminous particles that vanished into thin air, returning me to where it all began. All I could think was: what a damn joke.
And it happened again. The same adventurer found me again and again in different places, as if her favorite pastime was destroying me. It wasn't just her; other players joined in the fun too. In the end, calling them "players" made the most sense; if I was an NPC, then it made sense that they kept beating me. At first, it was frustrating, but then I discovered something strange: I started having fun. It wasn't fun to die, of course, but there was a strange charm in being able to always respawn and annoy them again.
Over time, I lost track of how many times it happened. Instead of giving up, I improvised. I created traps, not to hurt them, but to drive them crazy. I dug mud holes, set up ridiculous obstacles, and even left branches that tripped them up in the most absurd ways. It was comical chaos: they screamed in irritation every time they fell, while I, even when defeated, laughed inside. Little by little, I understood that, even though they always beat me, I was the one really tormenting them. And that was incredibly funny.
I don't know how long it actually took, but there came a point where everything changed. Those players who had previously found joy in destroying me started treating me differently. Between all the deaths, pranks, and traps, we ended up becoming close. They stopped attacking me and instead started teaching me. They showed me how to move better, how to defend myself, even basic combat techniques I never would have imagined learning in my condition. The funny thing is that I, who had started out as their target of ridicule, became part of their routine. They always came looking for me, not to hunt me, but to hang out with me.
One of them, laughing, registered me as his "summon" for a quest, which perplexed me. The final boss of the raid was the raid itself, and here I was, included in the group as if I had any real value. I couldn't believe it. I struggled to keep up, even though my skills were minimal.
Little by little, they also taught me their sign language, and although it was difficult at first, I eventually mastered it. This strengthened the connection even further. I wasn't just a clumsy NPC or an ordinary undead creature: I was part of their circle. By then, more than a month had passed, and what surprised me most was that they didn't seek me out of pity, but because they were genuinely amused by me.
I think I was a complete idiot. I was bored, with nothing to do because the players weren't showing up, and it occurred to me to call out "status window." To my surprise, a panel popped up in front of me, bright and detailed. It had always been there, and I hadn't even tried it before.
Name: Unnamed
Race: Revenant
EV: 100
MP: 500
Karma: -10
Threat Range: None
Protection: None
Title: None
Magic: None
Ability: None
Intrinsic Abilities: Weakness Insight
Resistances: None
I stared at that screen like a fool. Had this really been available from the start and I never used it? Damn, how stupid. And the worst part, am I as fragile as I look? Just a revenant with ridiculous numbers and a few minimal things. More than a terrifying monster, he looked like a walking joke.
Even more bored than before, I stared at that status window until, suddenly, everything fell apart. I stopped feeling like I was inside a simple digital world and found myself thrown into a real war scene. The landscape was devastating: ruined buildings, smoke in the air, corpses strewn about, screams mingling with the clashing of swords and the roar of magic. In front of me, a human army was advancing against the city where my summoner lived. And there she was, fighting desperately, wounded, identical to her game avatar.
One command was enough for him to lay waste to his enemies, but who was he kidding? He was barely weaker than a goblin. All I managed to do was get between a little girl and a fireball that was about to hit her. I took the full impact and ended up slammed into a wall, my body burning and torn apart. I knew I wouldn't make it out alive.
At that moment, I felt the greatest humiliation of my life. It wasn't just losing a battle; it was something deeper: the absolute helplessness of watching the strong crush the weak without remorse. There are many kinds of pride: that of the warrior who never backs down, that of the wise man who protects his knowledge, that of the king who defends his people... and my own, the pride of the player who was always the best. That pride, the one I had built up over years, was being shattered before my eyes. And worse, it was being trampled on as if it had never been worth anything.
I staggered to my feet, and one of the enemy knights charged at me with deadly speed. I felt my end coming at that moment, but something threw me off: my summoner, her body covered in blood, stepped between us and took the slash meant for me. I saw her fall, and everything we had shared, even though I was a mere NPC in that world, hit me with an unbearable force.
Frustration turned to rage. A cold, ferocious rage. A bloodlust began to envelop me, escaping from my eyes and my rotting body like an oppressive aura. Then something strange happened: the weak points of the knight in front of me lit up, as if my instinct was screaming at me where I should attack. In a brutal movement, I swung out with my claws, and his head rolled on the ground.
Pain, helplessness, and humiliation blended into a single feeling: relief. For the first time, I didn't feel weak. With that first kill, I began to absorb their essence, feeling my body instinctively strengthen. I didn't even fully understand what was happening, but my eyes were calculating quickly: more than 30,000 humans were attacking. My body reacted on its own, moving with lethal precision, eliminating each one without hesitation, like an uncontrolled monster. The corpses piled up as the voice of my victim continued, a wail I found strangely fascinating. Hearing the despair of the weak before someone they considered insignificant excited me in a cold, methodical way. It was then that I understood that this sound would be the basis of my new name, a reminder of how small they were before my power. Xiao, "little," reflecting all those who knelt before me. That name filled me with a strange, almost electric feeling, and I decided to adopt it. Without warning, a headache struck me as the voice in my mind announced that the stage of evolution was beginning.
—Successfully accumulated souls. Evolution and name generation for the user completed successfully.
—Sufficient bodies gathered to create a new body. Process completed successfully.
—Evolution of the Revenant race to Ghoul successfully completed
My body fell into a deep slumber as the corpses of those I had eliminated disintegrated and their souls became my nourishment. During that sleep, I felt my power gradually grow; my base stats multiplied by forty, granting me strength and endurance that were previously unthinkable. When I opened my eyes for the first time, I noticed my new appearance: a more humanoid, athletic body, balanced in proportions, and surprisingly attractive, with defined features and an intense gaze, capable of commanding respect without saying a word.
I took the opportunity to review my skills. The first was Rapid Regeneration, an Intrinsic ability that accelerated wound and energy recovery. I also had other Intrinsic vampire abilities, such as advanced night vision and heightened senses, and the System Skill, which displayed detailed information about the environment and enemies. Several basic combat skills were available, ready to be used with precision and efficiency, but nothing more.
When I fully awoke, the first thing I saw was my summoner, fully recovered, looking at me with relief and a smile that made me feel unexpectedly human. The coincidence of seeing her alive after everything she'd been through reminded me that my strength could now protect, not just destroy. A small gesture from her was enough to send a sense of purpose through me, and for the first time since I'd been reincarnated, I felt like my existence had a meaning beyond survival.